Let Freedom Ring
by Sweetsings
Summary: [Set in Pre Civil War America] He is all that America is. She is just a fugitive. Both are longing for freedom. But when they meet on terrible circumstances, an unlikely friendship forms in a divided America. Did meeting cause so much hurt? Is even their friendship a sin? All Alfred F. Jones and Jennifer Davis know is that their lives won't be the same.
1. Alfred - The First Step to Freedom

_I don't own anything in Hetalia except my OC. Thank you and enjoy!_

_'Help me…'_

That was the first thing I heard.

Now, don't get me wrong; I have a very hyperactive imagination. I hear - and see lots of things. I very rarely see things for how they actually are. I always see more. So much so,that even when I tell my colleagues, they say '_Sir, you're only dreaming!'_ And_ 'Pull yourself back to reality, it's 1842!'_

What a load of bullshit.

As a new country, I can't help but doubt myself and my own abilities. It all started when I broke away from the United Kingdom - and ultimately, my former caretaker, Arthur. We haven't spoken since...61 years ago to be exact. And as if things couldn't get any worse, I know that my independence alone won't be enough to satisfy me, or my people either.

Half of me isn't even free yet.

_'Help...me…'_

There it was again...oh, well, maybe it was my imagination.

To put it rather blatantly, I hate slavery. No, I _loathe_ it. For people, my _own_ people to strip human beings of their families, culture, and home, and for them to ship them all the way here to have them dehumanized and work like machinery - makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me disgusted and absolutely ashamed.

But what _really_ makes me ashamed? I can't do anything about it. Yeah, me. America himself can't even save his own people- and granted, if you ever immigrated here or came here for whatever reason you _are_ one of my people. I've even asked President Tyler and he even told me that it "wasn't that simple.''

Like _hell_ it isn't!

_'...help...me…'_

...what?

Ahem. My point is that, I want everyone to be free. _Everyone_ in this country has a right to be free. I want to be everyone's hero. I don't need any more death. We don't need any more families torn apart. I just hope that-

**_'HELP ME!'_**

This time I couldn't ignore it.

I immediately stopped my carriage and got out of it slowly, putting my hat back on my head. I had forgotten how cold it was since it was nearing Christmas, but I was glad I hadn't forgotten my waistcoat. It sounded like there was a young woman crying out.

"Hello? Is someone there? Where are you?!"

I walked through the tall snow of New York and I tried to find the owner of the voice. I searched around buildings tall and small, but still I could not find the voice. Still, though, I didn't give in.

"Excuse me! Who is there?!"

And then, I heard soft, broken, and pained sobbing.

When I turned around, I saw a dark alleyway that smelled of dry blood. It was a smell I knew oh too well.

Even so, I stood my ground and walked in, in case anybody wanted to attack.

Someone was hurting, and I needed to be their hero.

I treaded carefully through the alley, step by step, trying to reach where the injured woman was. It got even colder now from how dark it was, but even more, I pushed forward.

And then, I heard a sob.

The things I heard and saw were in the following order; I heard the crying first, and then I saw a big lump of snow piled up high, but I still didn't see the woman. She was nowhere in sight.

"Where…"

_...Oh My God_.

Quickly, I ran to the pile of snow and I began to dig. I had forgotten my gloves today, but I didn't care. I kept on digging. Deeper, and deeper. And as if it confirmed my fears, the cries got louder each time I dug.

What I found once I got deep enough shocked me.

I saw a broken and bleeding leg that was a sweet chocolate brown. Not wanting to injure her more than she already was, I began to dig more so the snow was off of most of the badge colored dress I saw and I pulled her up to see her face…

Beauty and horror met me.

This lady was a runaway, it seemed. Her dark hair was mostly covered in ice and her intricately shaped face seemed to be _suffering_ from frostbite. Her gingerbread eyes showed whatever life they had left and it seemed like she was struggling to breathe.

"...Help..._Help_...me…"

She didn't need to ask again.

Immediately, I picked her up in my arms and I carried her all the way back to my carriage. She would be warmer there. Instead of heading to a meeting - which I was going to in the first place- I went the other way. I went all the way back home.

I want to be everyone's hero, but apparently, it's not that simple. But what if I became _her_ hero? I could save her. I could bring her back to life. Like heros always do.

They would judge me. Everyone would judge me.

And yet I don't give a _fuck_.

To save this beautiful lady would be the first step to freedom, in my eyes.


	2. Jennifer - Someone Saved Me

_Welcome to the next chapter, everyone. Without further ado, let us begin!__Warning: Will contain serious historical derogatory terms._

* * *

_'...go of my...baby!'_

What….?

_'Jennifer!'_

Who's there…?

_'MAMA!'_

I woke up feeling stiff.

When my eyes blinked open, I saw nothing but a carefully carved and furnished ceiling above me. My hands felt raw…my legs were killing me. I felt bad all over.

What even happened…?

I tried to retrace what happened before I woke up.

...Mama and Daddy were killed. Mama told me to run before I could see. And then for weeks, I didn't have a thing. No food...no water...I lived off of the melting snow. I couldn't keep track of time. I didn't care anymore. I wanted to join them in the afterlife - the promised land. I want to find my Mama and Daddy.

...is this Heaven? But, God, why do I hurt_ all over_?

Using whatever strength I had, I sat up. My movements were like a machine's. When I looked at my hands I saw...bandages. White bandages that spiraled from my hands to my elbows. Dried up splotches of blood were there it seemed. I hated the scent, I've always hated the scent.

I looked down and I noticed that I wasn't wearing what I wore when we escaped. How could that be? I had no other clothes on me. My torn up dress was replaced with a white nightgown.

_...someone saved me._

I cursed myself for even thinking such a crazy thing. No one saves the negros out here. They either want 'em as tools in bed or machines to keep a fire going. My grandmother was a witness. For someone to have saved me is just about crazy as snow in hell!

**I can't stay here!**

...

_Snore…_

My ears perked up as I heard a sound to my right. Someone else was here. I became extremely afraid...perhaps this someone wanted to keep a watch on me and was waiting, just _waiting_ for me to wake up. And I was lucky enough for them not to awaken.

But, letting my curiosity get the best of me, I turned to where the sound came from.

It was a man. A white man, at that. He was fast asleep in a wooden chair, right next to me. Strangely enough , I saw a glimpse of him in the snow...dressed in blue and tousled blonde hair. But in reality, he was dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers. A brown jacket was placed next to him, and I saw it dripping liquid onto the wooden floor.

At first, I was quite muddled. Since his jacket was off, it seemed he had nothin' to hide. No knife waiting to cut into my back. It seemed at the moment, he was completely...vulnerable.

_Perfect._

I had to use the headboard to lift myself up slowly. _God_, that alone hurt. I staggered carefully over to where there were chairs lined up in a row against the wall. I carefully tiptoed against my swollen and wrapped up feet, picking the chair up and setting it down so it was right in front of the man. And when I finally sat myself down, I did something that would make my entire family - if they were alive - just about laugh their asses off.

I slapped him. Hard.

I got a kick out of the following events that happened quickly. He yelped and fell out of the chair, hitting the floor harshly. In response to this, a chain reaction. Before he hit the floor, his hand tried to grab onto another chair for support, but it ultimately failed, making the others topple to the ground like dominos.

"AH! God…!"

He held his cheek, groaning as he glared up at me. I happily returned that glare.

"What the hell was that-..."

His words fell out of his mouth once he saw me. I had to huff.

"That's for being unarmed."

The man was silent for a while until I saw a glimmer fill his eyes.

"You...you're awake."

"No shit."

More silence.

I stared at him in deep suspicion. He only stared back at me wonder.

Wonder? Ha! What's so wonderful about me? I'm just the same as the rest of my family aren't I? In looks, in status, in rank. I'm a fugitive negro woman who was just supposed to be another statistic. Ain't nothing wonderful about me.

...speaking of which.

"...why?"

He blinked up at me and tilted his head. It just about pissed me off how naive he was coming off.

"What...do you-"

"Oh, for God's sake! Aren't you all the same? _Why_ did you save me?"

He furrows his brows a bit, seeming to examine my bandages.

"...you were hurt. I wasn't going to let you freeze to death. I heard you call out for help. And I could help you, so I did."

I crossed my arms. He was going to have to do better than that.

"Really? Why, then? Don't you know that no men out here care for a fugitive woman? Did you know my parents were lynched by men such as you? Or are you just that stupid? Do you think _I'm_ that stupid?"

He went quiet for a long time. And here is when I believed I had outsmarted him. Finally, I could make a run for it...if I got my feet well again. Then, I could go...go…

Where _would_ I go?

"What's your name?"

I didn't expect him to ask me. I was beyond bewilderment.

"E...Excuse me?"

"I want to know your name."

...I hated how genuine he sounded. I hated how genuine he _looked_.

"...J-Jennifer. My name is Jennifer…"

I saw him stand up and reach into a cupboard, pulling out white balls of cloth. Then, he took out a few bottles of a strange gel of some sort. He picked up a chair that fell over and he sat down in front of me.

"Jennifer - if I may call you that-...give me your arm. Your left arm."

"Why should I?"

"Your wounds need to be cleaned."

I looked down at my left arm and sure enough, the cloth with the terrible stains of blood worsened. And that stench still smelled like a massacre.

"...then clean them."

Emotionlessly, I extended my arm slowly. I watched as he grabbed my arm lightly, as if it were a long lost treasure for some reason.

"Now, Jennifer - I'm going to remove your bandages, wash your wounds, and rewrap them. This will sting, just a bit."

He spoke these words sincerely and apologetically, and I didn't know why. Nevertheless, I was still while he took my bandages off, one by one. Granted, these wounds weren't what I was used to. They weren't as deep as usual. But when he began to use the cloth to wash the dirt and blood off, it did hurt. And I didn't like it.

I could tell he heard me hiss.

"Remember - it will sting just for a bit." He said, still concentrating on my wounds carefully.

And surprisingly enough? It was. It _was_ just for a bit.

Then, he threw the ruined bandages in the metal bin not too far from the bed. As my head turned in that direction, I saw many - seriously, _many_ \- bandages just like it, some blackened and ready for the flies to swarm them. It was overflowing, and it seemed like it was for...this purpose.

I realized so many things in that moment. I had so many questions.

**How long had I been here? Was it months after I was on my own? How many bandages has this man gone through for me? He did this...for me?!**

_...someone saved me_.

I didn't know how to feel for a while. I was too busy staring at the overflowing bin, that I didn't notice that my left arm was rewrapped.

"Okay. Now, let me see your right…"

...it's a miracle. A goddamn miracle. This man, who could have just walked by going about his normal day, took time out of it to save _me_. Does he know where I come from? How us negros aren't supposed to be shown any hospitality at all?

By the time I had been forced by the man to lay back down, I had realized that this wasn't a joke. He really did save me. Sure, that don't mean I trust him at _all_. But I do believe that his actions were sincere.

I still need to keep an eye out.

"...what's your name?" I asked quickly, seeing that he was about to leave out at my request.

He turned around and smiled, pearly whites gleaming with his blue eyes.

"Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

Alfred F. Jones, huh…

I looked out the window, a little bit of gratitude in my heart.

_Alfred F. Jones saved me._


End file.
